28. Hudson

28

HUDSON

T he nine games we played in the last twelve days were both exhilarating and exhausting. The minors schedule is not nearly as tiring. Also, the excitement of the press and crowd adds a whole other element.

It’s been surreal.

We won all but one game, and Coach has been walking around with a pathetic, but contagious, grin permanently tattooed on his face. I’ve incorporated myself into the rotation, adding value to the team, and I’ve honestly never played better.

During the little off time I do have, I’ve thought about Ember. Not just her, but that text from two weeks ago that she’s refused to elaborate on since.

Little Red: I need to modify our agreement

What the hell does that mean?

When I first received that text, it was the middle of the night, due to our time difference. So, when I finally responded, she was still sleeping. When she woke up the next day, she avoided the twenty questions I had to talk to me about it. I assume she had been drinking with Cruz and probably lost the courage to say anything more.

So, needless to say, I’ve been in a constant state of suffering since.

Modify it how?

So many ideas have flashed through my head about how she is wanting to modify it and all of them seem to end up with her gone and out of my life, and I have no clue as to how I’ve become so reliant on her presence. It’s absolutely terrifying.

I pull into the garage and park in my designated spot. Ember’s reserved spot next to it is still empty, due to her car still being in Missouri. She mentioned that her parents are driving it down and will arrive tomorrow with it. She also told me she was excited to get her car, but incredibly nervous about her parents being here.

What she has shared with me about them is not bad, per se. It just seems like they don’t support her, or what she wants. They only support her when she makes her decisions based on what they want.

It’ll be interesting to see how they react when she shares with them that, not only is she married, but she’s working at one of the biggest companies in the U.S., and she’s climbing the ladder faster than I can throw a baseball.

I’m so proud of everything she’s accomplished in the short time she’s been there. She told me that Christian and Elena liked her idea, but there were some stipulations that she was working on. Regardless, I know she’ll work through those because she’s made for this. Business, marketing, public relations. It all comes so naturally to her. And it’s so goddamn sexy.

“Ember, you home?” I ask as I enter through the front door because I didn’t want to appear too needy and text her when I landed.

“Hey, in the kitchen,” she yells back.

Hearing her voice makes the fluttering in my stomach go wild. How she can turn me into an excited teenager that easily is beyond me. Then her request and all the scenarios I have flash through my head, and my stomach is instantly a butterfly graveyard.

I turn the corner to the kitchen and see her pulling a pizza box out of the oven. She’s dressed in leggings and an oversized Seattle Smashers shirt that’s tied in a knot at her lower back. My—our—last name crosses over the back of it, and it takes everything in me not to claim her just like that shirt is.

Turning around to face me, an unavoidable smile crosses over my face at the sight of her. She smiles right back, biting her lower lip. “Hi, mister winning streak.”

“You watched my games?” I ask as my eyes gaze into hers, and fuck, I’ve missed them.

“Of course, I did. I can’t say you didn’t scare the hell out of me when that guy came rounding third and your shortstop threw the ball to you just in time for him to barrel into you. I was yelling at the TV, cursing that guy to hell. But when the umpire called him out and you won the game, oh my god. I was screaming.”

Her talking baseball does things to me that I have never felt before in my life. I might take her right here, right now, on this goddamn kitchen island.

“You should stop talking right now, because you recapping my baseball game is better than any dirty talk I can ever imagine. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back.” She tosses her head back and laughs and, Jesus, I’ve missed that, too.

“It’s Friday,” she replies, opening the pizza box she kept warm in the oven, steam rising from the inside, filling the room with the aroma of our Friday night favorite, which is just as comforting as the scent of her when I walked into the house.

I grab the box and head over to the couch, to continue our tradition. “Come on, little red. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“So, did they love your idea?” I ask, as I pull an olive off the slice of supreme pizza from the paper plate on my lap, tossing it into my mouth.

“Yeah, actually, they jumped on it immediately. They pretty much took any other responsibilities I had, dispersed them to others, and are having me spearhead opening this club.”

I can’t help but smile.

“It’s been so crazy, Hudson. We’ve already located the building we are converting, applied for the permits, and hired contractors. I’m leading the marketing team to start putting this out there next week. It’s all happening so fast; so much faster than I could have ever imagined. I guess that’s what happens when you tell everyone your boss is Christian Ford.”

“So, then, what are the stipulations you told me about?” That makes her pause.

“Well, it wasn’t their stipulations, it was mine,” she replies shyly.

“Does this have anything to do with the excruciating text message about modifying our agreement?” I ask.

Her head snaps my way. “Excruciating?” she repeats.

“Yes.” I toss an olive at her. “About modifying our agreement and not telling me anything more for two long ass weeks.” I half laugh, trying to keep it light.

“Well, I wanted to have the conversation in person.” Her voice is light, too light .

Fuck.

I sit up, placing my plate on the coffee table in front of us.

“What’s up?” I interlace my fingers together, placing my elbows on my legs, giving her my full attention.

“Well…” She sits up, sliding her plate on top of the closed pizza box, next to mine. Her fingers pinch her bottom lip, as if in deep thought. Then they move slightly, tugging on her top lip as she nibbles on the inside.

“Ember…” I pull her hand away from her face, keeping it held in mind. “Talk to me.”

My heartbeat has kicked up a few notches. The pressure flowing through my veins rivals that of world famous geysers.

She’s having a hard time verbalizing whatever is on her mind, and it’s clearly been weighing on her.

“I…” She pauses, a long ass pause. Her lungs deflate with a long exhale that matches the descent of her shoulders. “I need sex lessons. I need you to give me sex lessons.”

I physically choke on air.

Her wide eyes glare with concern for only a brief moment before they furrow in confusion.

After I catch my breath, I can’t help but let out a chuckle.

“Don’t laugh at me.” She lets go of my hand.

“No, no. I almost died by choking on my own breath. I’m laughing at myself. But I can’t say I’m not shocked.” I reach for her hand again, pulling it close to me as I slide off the couch and place myself in front of her, so we’re face to face.

I use my index finger to tilt her chin up, so her eyes meet mine. “Tell me more about these lessons.”

The vulnerability in her eyes is like nothing I’ve seen. Ember has been a positive energy source, as powerful as the sun, since the moment I met her. Other than that moment on stage, where her nerves got the best of her, she’s always been strong, confident, and assertive in what she wants .

“I mean, maybe not lessons , just experience. It’s just… I know this could be a really great thing. This club. I feel it in my soul and down to the marrow of my bones. The business stuff I can do. I just need… help, in the other areas. I want to do it justice.”

Jesus.

Her emotional mix of nerves and confidence marry each other in a way I’ve never seen before.

Could I teach her things about sex? Sure. Some things about certain sexual lifestyles I know enough about; the others we could figure out together. But spending the next, however long it takes, to get this building up and running, exploring her in ways no one else has.

Fuck.

This might destroy me. Just in time for her to leave me.

“I’ve only had one other partner, aside from you,” she says.

Elliot.

An uncontrolled sound releases from my throat that sounds more like a territorial growl. It’s unintentional, and I cover it up by clearing my throat before she continues.

“He hated oral sex—both ways.” She tucks a loose strand behind her ear, biting nervously at the corner of her bottom lip. “He only liked to be on top, so when?—”

“Mmhmm, I understand,” I interrupt her so I don’t need to continue to envision another man touching her, regardless of how bad it was.

Her eyes flicker up to me with a shy smile before returning her gaze back to her hands.

“So, my little red is going to open a sex club, but plot twist, hasn’t had any sex.”

“I’ve had sex,” she counters back defensively.

“That wasn’t sex.” I lift from my kneeling position and wrap my hands around her hips, pulling her flush against me, crashing her lips to mine. She moans into my mouth, and I swallow the sound, claiming it just like I want to claim everything else about her.

Keeping my grip on her ass, I stand, and her legs naturally pretzel around me as I carry her into the bedroom.

“Lesson one starts now.”